


Hell Hath No Fury

by katiebour



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, F/M, Prostitution, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebour/pseuds/katiebour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on the k!meme requesting a different perspective on Hadriana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Hath No Fury

"Hello," she said, smiling in what (she hoped) was an alluring way.  She'd never seen anything like him- black brows underneath his crown of white hair, elvhen eyes the color of fine jade set off by the warm, tan skin of his face, the tracery of delicate marks that outlined his musculature from head to foot.  She'd been in the slave quarters for nearly a week, now, and he was the one and only to treat her with a modicum of kindness in this pit.  He'd sat next to her when they'd been served their morning ration of porridge, his angry glare warding off the more opportunistic slaves who'd bullied her meals from her three days in a row.

She'd stood on the street, freezing, hiding the ever-present cough that lingered in the cold season, her skimpy clothing showing her tiny figure at its meagre best.  She hated the looks, the calls, the groping hands and thrusting bodies, the dirt and the invasion and the pain and the cold, but if you didn't work, you starved, and Hadriana  _had_  no other skills.  

When the richly-dressed magister had passed by, she'd thrust out her bosom and licked her lips, and what had been a cursory look quickly turned into something else.  He'd stopped, stepped down from his richly-appointed palaquin, languid voice piqued with interest as he'd approached.  

"Well, well, what have we here?" he'd taken her jaw roughly in hand, turned her from side to side, and then he'd  _focused_  in an odd sort of way.  The look he'd given her had been speculative, interested, and when he'd offered to feed her, clothe her, house her in return for her servitude, she'd agreed immediately.  What good was freedom when it left you to starve in a gutter, pawed over and violated by strangers day after day?

She smiled up at her elvhen protector.  She had little else to offer, no way to repay his kindness, but if he wanted her, she would gladly receive him.

He let a hint of a smile return, and in that moment she was lost, utterly.

"Hadriana!" came the barked call, and she scrambled to her feet as the slavemaster approached.  "Magister Danarius would see you now, girl."  He transferred his gaze to the elf seated beside her, and with a crooked finger, added, "Fenris, come."

 _Fenris_ , she thought.   _His name is Fenris_.

She nodded, setting her unfinished bowl to the ground.  One did not keep the Magister waiting.

She'd nearly trembled when he stalked around her, examining her from every angle.  "Do you know why I bought you, girl?" he purred, and she locked her gaze on the floor, shaking her head tremulously.

"You're a pretty little thing, true enough," he said, stroking his beard, and she'd bit her lip.  Surely servicing one greying Magister was not so terrible.

"But... no, I think you'll suit in other ways.  What is your name, girl?" he said, and with fear in her eyes, she'd replied quietly,

"Hadriana,  _domne_."

"Hadriana..." he rolled the name around on his tongue.  "You are very fortunate, my dear, for it appears you have the capacity to learn magic.  If you apply yourself to your studies, you may one day rise far above your station, to perhaps be a Magister yourself.  What say you?"

Her head whipped up and she stared at her  _domne_  in disbelief.  Her, a Magister?

He chuckled at her look.  "I scarce believed it myself, to find something of value in such a midden."

Hadriana looked away, embarrassed and unsure.  When blue eyes met jade green, she'd been shocked to see that he was glaring at her, expression venomous, full of hate.

By the Archon, what had she done to deserve such a look?

Days later, she'd crept back into the slave's quarters; she slept in a much nicer room now, one she shared with four other apprentices.  They'd placed her in front of the door, and every time  one got up to use the privy they'd kicked her, insincere apologies echoing off their lips.  She was developing bruises already, and a small part of her wished to be back in the slave pens, with Fenris, just a serving girl, or even back  in her little alley.

They'd cornered her, called her filth, gutter trash, whore, no longer bothering to disguise their hatred of one such as her.

"Fenris?" she called quietly, when she found his pallet, gently shaking his shoulder.  "It's me, Hadriana."

He'd sat up quickly, and once he'd recognized her the look of fierce hate turned her stomach.  

"I-I was wondering how you were," she stammered.

"Get away from me, witch," he hissed, "Should you not be upstairs, sleeping on a fine bed in your apprentice's quarters?"

She bit her lip.  "Did I say something wrong?"

He snarled at her.  "I have no wish to associate with one such as you.  Begone and hound my sleep no longer,  _domnatrix_."

She fled, the hurt from the venom in his voice far outweighing the sneers and taunts of the other apprentices.  She'd _expected_ it from them.

But she'd thought he was different.


End file.
